


6 and 27

by Yeenteen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Father son relationship, Fluff, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeenteen/pseuds/Yeenteen
Summary: Tarkan is 6. Heracles is 27.





	1. Sleepy

**Author's Note:**

> very short. 
> 
> like, really. no plot

"Ah!" Tarkan held out a fork-full of cake. Heracles opened his mouth and gobbles up the cake, smiling at the small boy. The two sat at the white table, eating cake and drinking tea. The cafe was moderately filled, not much people but enough people to make the atmosphere absorb something. 

"I like this cake." 

"Which one?" Heracles asked, looking at the 45 dollars worth of cakes. 

"The one with the brown powder." Tarkan pointed to the one nearest him. "It reminds me of how Baba makes cakes." 

Heracles opened his mouth. "Lemme try." Tarkan stabbed into the cheese cake and shovelled up a golf ball sized piece, stuffing it into the older, way older, guy's mouth. 

"How is it?" 

"That's how my mom made sweets." Heracles smiled. The two smiled in the thought of their parents making them food. Tarkan already took a bite out of every cake, from the red velvet piece to a neon pink one, his tongue and the inner parts of his lips were stained purple. 

"How she make it?" Tarkan asked curiously. 

"Well, she just eyeballed everything. Plus everything wasn't technology. I still remember drawing on pillars." Heracles took a bite of a random cheesecake, trying his best to remember childhood memories. "Damn, I'm old." 

"Or I'm just way to young to get you." He gave the Greek man a gummy smile, receiving a pinch on a cheek. "Dare me to eat all the cake?" 

Heracles softly smiled. "You already are." 

...

The world meeting ended early, probably because Ludwig decided the room was too chaotic to function together, so he allowed a 45 minute break so he can cry in the bathroom. Nations were now allowed to leave the hall and go out to other parts of the buildings and Micronations were allowed to enter the hall too, but they never did. Except Tarkan. 

"Hera!" The little boy ran into the hall and realized how tall everyone was compared to him. Two blonde men shadowed over him and quickly made way for him to enter. 

"Hera? Where are you?" Tarkan ran to the seat labeled 'Greece', to see the brunette man playing on his phone. He tiptoed to look over the table. 

"Hi!" He greeted. 

Heracles stood up and lifted the boy of the ground to carry him on his hip. Other countries eyed the two, not remembering how they suddenly got along. Heracles walked down the steps to the centre where everyone else was. 

"I'm tired." Heracles yawn. 

Tarkan gave him a gummy smile once more. 

"You're always tired." Tarkan rested his head on the Greek man's shoulder, yawning. "I think you're being like me more and more." 

"Wow Heracles." An American waddled to the two Mediterranean males. "I never knew you'd be the type to be a father." 

"Go away." Heracles turned his back to the American, clutching the small boy's body a bit tighter. 

"C'mon dude, what's up with you?" 

"Britain told me that you are still avoiding Turkey and giving him shit. I would expect you'd stop after a few decades?" 

"And you would even let me be near his son?" 

"You took the words out of my mouth." Heracles hissed from over his shoulder. "I don't want to see you." 

As Tarkan's eye lids started to droop, he asked Heracles who was that guy. 

"Don't worry about it, just don't go near him when you see him. Okay?" 

"Mhmm."


	2. Icarus and the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bed time story that makes Heracles think about life for the the hundredth time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is very cute. I actually might make this like tiny stories is Heracles and Tarkan

"Hera."

"Mmm..."

"Hera."

Heracles mumbled, half asleep. Shifting on to his back, he scratched his back and ignored the little Mediterranean boy beside him in bed.

"Heracles, I can't sleep." Tarkan whispered.

"That sounds like a you problem. Shh." Heracles grasped on to Tarkan, pulling him closer and nuzzled his head on to his tiny, tiny chest.

"Please?" He pleaded.

The older man pried his eyes open, gazing upon his honey-coloured eyes.

"Can you tell me a story?" Tarkan asked. He embraced Heracles' head, rubbing his cheek on his brown, wave-like hair.

Heracles sighed. "I'm not very good at it."

"Pretty please? Peter always tells me that his dad does it and baba never told me any stories, can you?"

"I don't think I ca-"

"Ok fine, I'll try to go to sleep on my own." Tarkan unwrapped his arms around Heracles and shuffled to the edge of the bed only to be scooped up by muscular arms.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding." Heracles tightly hugged Tarkan. "What story do you want?"

"Well, what did your mom tell you?"

"Oh, my stories? They're quite boring."

"Just pick a random one."

Heracles thought for a moment, browsing on what story to tell, until one hit him.

"Okay, you know Icarus and the sun?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"You know, the one with the guy and the wings?"

Tarkan shook his head. Heracles sat up so he was at an angle where he was laying but almost sitting. Reaching for the bed side table drawing, he grabbed a note book and a marker as Tarkan laid his head on his shoulder. Flipping for a new page, Tarkan saw many scribbled and numbers on previous pages, stopping at a blank one.

"Okay. So there was this guy named Daedalus." Heracles started to draw a little stick figure, adding a beard for detail.

"He made a maze for king Minos so he can trap the Minotaur. You know, the half-bull, half-human monster?"

"Mmmhmm." Tarkan replied. Heracles started to faintly draw the map of Greece.

"But Daedalus did something King Minos didn't like, so he escaped to this island called Crete." Heracles pointed a the island on the bottom of the map, circling it with the back of his marker. "And he also brought his son, Icarus."

Heracles sketched another stick figure with flowing hair, next to the sketch of the one with the beard.

"How did they get there?" Tarkan asked.

"Well, Daedalus was really good at making things, so, he made wings, one pair for himself, one pair for Icarus. It was made of wax and feathers." Heracles added very simple wings to the two stick figures, putting a happy face on them too.

"But since Icarus was still kind of young," Heracles, turning the page, drew a sun on the corner of the sheet. "Daedalus said, 'no matter what, stay low, or else the sun will melt the wax and you'll fall from the sky."

Tarkan was already captivated in the story, watching Heracles sketch basic drawings. "What happened next?"

"So, Icarus started to fly. But he ignored his father's saying and flew closer to the sun." Heracles drew an arrow pointing towards the sun.

"Wait, did the wax melt?"

"Of course it did. And Icarus found himself falling from the sky."

"That's it? The story's over?"

Heracles blew air out of his nose. "When I was your age, it was for me. But my Mom was a very wise person and told me something every cool."

Heracles drew a squiggly line, a few centimetres from the sun.

"Daedalus also told Icarus that he shouldn't fly to low, or else water will fill the feathers and he will sink."

Heracles paused to recap what his mom said.

"You see, Tarkan. I lived in the same place where guys with huge titles would tell this story. Just without the water part. They were very controlling."

Heracles glanced at the night sky and continued to speak. "My mom didn't like it. So she told the actual part of it. She told me to follow what Daedalus said. She said something like 'know your limits and don't hit the sun. But also don't underestimate that you can't do anything and don't let the water get you."

Heracles added more lines on the waves. "You're dad is like that. He knows that he shouldn't be too high in the sky but also can't be to low. It's just that he's the story and everyone else is the guys with big titles."

Heracles sighed. "So, know where you should be okay? If you're under the sun but over the waves, you'll balance out and glide. Right Tarkan?"

Heracles glanced at the now sleeping boy in his shoulder. He closed his note book and tossed it on the floor along with the marker. He lifted his head and wrapped his arm around his fragile body, laying his ear where his heart beat was. He began to stroke his cheek and minutes later, Heracles was sleeping himself.

...

"But Heracles. Listen."

"Okay. I'm sorry I'm bringing the euro down, sorry that I can't keep up with your damn economy, and sorry that I'm trying my fucking best."

"Well you're not trying you're very best."

Heracles argued into the phone. He was sitting in his desk, ready to end his call with Ludwig.

"I'm not trying to give you a hard time-"

"The fact that I have to run my country, almost help Turkey. AND have a little boy running around my house is already a hard time."

"Heracles, hear me out."

Tarkan peeped into the master bedroom, watching Heracles on his chair, back towards him. He fought with words he never heard off. Heracles, in a fit of anger, ended the call. Tarkan tip-toed into the room.

"Heracles?" the Greek man jumped a bit.

"Oh you scared me. I thought you were playing with the cats." Heracles asked.

"They're asleep or eating. Hera, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just grown up stuff." Heracles lied. He watched as the glint in Tarkan's eyes moved side to side, also seeing a pair of arms held out for a hug.

He hugged back. "You can go out to the back yard if you want, I can see you just in case."

"I really liked the story you told last night." Tarkan smiled. "It's was nice."

"Really? It's very, very old."

"You are too." Tarkan giggled. "Can you tell me more?"

"Sure. You might learn a thing or two."

"Do you?"

Heracles thought. He paused for a bit and tried to replay memories of anytime he actually learned FOR stories.

"A bit."

"Huh. We can read some together."


	3. Say Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heracles teaches Tarkan something about letting go. And Tarkan teaches Heracles about manners. 
> 
> TW/ character death. death of family. I recommend skipping this chapter if you can't handle a husband watching his wife die as his newborn son does too.
> 
> Also recommend listening to Work Song by Hozier while reading this.

"ELIZABETA! ELIZABETA PLEASE!" Roderich screamed. 

Sadik, Francis and Heracles held the Austrian man back from Elizabeta's lifeless body on the twin bed. Blood stained the sheets surrounding her hips as a baby between her legs resembled the same lifelessness Elizabeta had. 

Roderich sobbed. "WAKE UP! PLEASE!" Ludwig already was in the process of trying to get a heartbeat, but that this point, a miracle was needed. Vash ran into the room with towels, closing the door slowly as Lily and Tarkan tried to peep in but their view was tall men in the mist of chaos. 

Roderich tossed the three men off him and ran to his wife's corpse. He firmly held her shoulders and shook harshly. He screamed at the top of he lungs as Gilbert and Ludwig attempted to get Elizabeta in their care. 

"Roderich, stop!" Heracles exclaimed, latching to his arm. 

Lily opened the door and looked in. Roderich pushed Heracles into the wall beside the door frame, forcing Tarkan to witness Hercules pass out from the hard hit. Francis rushed to the Greek man on the ground unconscious. 

"Mr. Francis?" Tarkan whispered. 

"Oh no honey, stay outside. The grown ups are trying to do something." Francis replied. The dent in the wall was deep. It created a crater that would definitely be needed to cover up. 

Lily gasped. Tears started to river down her cheeks as she saw Elizabeta's body. Tarkan, on the other hand, was too focused on what Francis was trying to do. Heracles was flopped on the ground as Tarkan was already reaching a hand out to touch him. Lily already grasped the small boy and agreed to leave the sight, refusing to watch the horror. 

"Let me go! That's my son!" Roderich screamed towards Vash. The blond held the baby and wrapped it in a towel. "Don't touch him!" 

"Rod! Enough!" Gilbert yelled over the chaos. On the other side of the bed, Ludwig knelt in tiredness, ready to give up. "Rod, she's gone. She's been gone for a couple minutes." 

"No! Wait! I'll try har-" Ludwig replied. 

"Bro, she's gone!" Ludwig looked at Elizabeta's pale face. Yeah, she was gone. But she looked so peaceful. 

"TRY HARDER!" The Austrian screamed. 

Sadik finally got Roderich to lay on the ground. He had tears all over his face, wailing from the loss of not only his wife but newborn son. 

"Holy shit." Vash sighed. He scoped out the room to see the chaos lessen by a few notches. Vash knew that after anger, there's sadness; and at this point, Roderich was weeping in the wooden floor, whispering something to himself. 

Sadik got up quickly as he felt his stomach turn. He swung the door open and sprinted to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and letting bile splash into the bowl. Tarkan, sitting beside the bedroom door, watched as his father vomited. He stood up and tip toed to the bathroom. 

"Baba?" 

Sadik shoed him away, needing space from the mess. Heracles pried his eyes open to see Roderich sprawled on the ground, Ludwig sitting and resting his back on the bed, Gilbert kneeling at the foot of the bed, Vash in a cloud of shock, staring at the baby, his husband puking his brains, Francis hovering over him and heard a faint cry from around the door corner. 

"What the hell." He said to himself. Tarkan poked his head around the corner. 

"Hera, I'm scared." Tarkan said stiffly. 

"I am too." Heracles replied. 

... 

Heracles held Tarkan in his arms as they stood over a grave. The wind was blowing rather annoyingly. The weather was fine, the ratio of sky to clouds was 1:2, yet some sun seemed to meet with the ground. 

"Do you remember Ms. Elizabeta?" Heracles asked. 

"Yeah. She always gave me peanut butter sandwiches when me and Baba visited Mr. Rod. I didn't talk to her much though." 

Heracles put Tarkan on the ground, letting him get a better look of the frame on the grave. 

"She was very pretty." 

"Of course. I was glad someone like her was part in the family." Heracles replied. 

The two were in silence as they looked at the grave. Tarkan didn't have much thoughts in his mid, mainly about sandwiches and helping with chores but Heracles, on the other hand, was remembering when his aunt disappeared and never came back. 

'It must be awkward for an aunt to die' he thought. 

"Hera?" 

"Yes?" 

"What happened when she was giving birth? Why was Mr. Rod screaming?" Tarkan asked, looking at Heracles in questioned.

"Well, Ms. Elizabeta was going to give birth, but something went wrong and she had a heart attack. Her baby also died because she gave birth too early." He replied. 

"Why was it crazy in the room, though?" 

"Well, Mr. Rod loves Ms. Elizabeta very much, and when someone you love dies, you can go... chaotic. Mr. Rod didn't accept Ms. Elizabeta dying, and Me, Mr. Francis and your dad had to help him calm down." 

Tarkan remembered when Lily started to cry. She held her hands above her mouth as Sadik and Roderich were basically wrestling on the ground. 

"Didn't you pass out, Hera?" Tarkan said. 

"Yeah. I did." 

Another pause of silence filled the atmosphere. Tarkan contemplated if he wanted to ask the question he was thinking, in fear of Hera thinking it was a stupid question. Finally, he had the courage to ask him. 

"Is it true that you can go crazy when someone you love dies?" 

Heracles nodded. 

"Then why does Baba look calm all the time?" Tarkan asked, holding his arms up as a request to be held. Heracles picked up the boy. 

"Because, at some point, you have to accept that some died," Heracles went on one knee, sat Tarkan down on his left knee and grabbed the frame of Elizabeta. "Because if you don't, you'll be sad forever. People die for a reason, and they have to stay dead so they can take care of those who are alive. Y'get me?" 

"Kind of." 

"It's ok, you're still young. You'll get it when your old as me." Heracles joked. Tarkan giggled as The tall man stood up and walked towards the car. He looked at the tomb as the two walked away, waving at the slack of marble. 

"Who are you waving to?" Heracles asked. 

"Ms. Elizabeta, if she's going to take care of me, might as well say bye before leaving. It's rude to leave without saying goodbye." Tarkan replied and raised his arm higher to wave. 

"You're right." Heracles said.


	4. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heracles wakes up to Tarkan and a fever. 1/2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just and cuteness and nasty ass graph medicine

Heracles woke up. The clock lit a distinct 3:14, shining the only color in the room. His body felt heavy, realizing that Tarkan was sleeping on his chest. Painfully, he twisted his head forward for his nose and lips to accidentally collide with Tarkan's hair. 

Tarkan's hair was in an odd condition. His hair was drenched in sweat, spilling onto his forehead too. Heracles stroked his hair but then cringed as he felt the moisture slap into his hand, quickly wiping it away onto his shirt. Hera could hear Tarkan's heart beat fast and hard, and realized that he had a fever. 

Tarkan whimpered in his sleep, sucking his thumb as his brows slanted in discomfort. Hera figured out he was hot, so he reached over for a magazine on the side table. Rubbing his back gently, Heracles fanned the small boy in his lap, running his finger through his hair a couple times. 

Tarkan a woke with a hard fidget. Hit with a wave of heat, Tarkan started to cry in discomfort. Hera, surprised that he was awake, stroked his back, whispering to stop crying. Sadik, also flopped beside the two, woke up and looked over his back to see his boyfriend violently fanning his son while he wailed. 

"What's wrong?" Sadik asked. 

"I think he has a fever." Heracles responded. The Turkish man took his hand and wedged it in Tarkan's neck. Oh, he did have a burning fever. He did feel warm. 

"I'll take him downstairs for medicine." Heracles cradled Tarkan in his arms and carried him down stairs. Walking to the kitchen with the toddler in his arms, he flopped Tarkan on the couch to go look for medicine. Rummaging through the cabinet, he found the bottle of syrup. Heracles hated the smell of it and felt bad that Tarkan had to consume such a disgusting medicine. He was too young for pill and he couldn't find the pads you can lay on your tongue. 

Tarkan made his first sneeze of the night. A small sneeze broke the silence of the first floor. Heracles grabbed a tissue off the counter and left with a spoon, medicine and a glass of water. Guiding him to sit up, Heracles poured the purple syrup into the spoon, also giving him his glass of water. 

Tarkan whispered. "I don't like this medicine." 

"I know, sorry buddy. Does your throat hurt?" Heracles asked. Tarkan nodded. 

"Here. Use your right hand to plug your nose and your left to hold the water. After you take medicine, drink the water quick, ok?" 

"Why plug your nose?" 

"It won't taste as bad. Drink the water fast." 

Heracles counted from 3 slowly, quickly placing the spoon in Tarkan's mouth. The kid closed his lips on the metal spoon and swallowed the grape flavoured syrup. He drank water almost immediately, gulping the whole glass down to wash out the taste. 

"See, not that bad. I'll put the medicine in the fridge so it won't taste as bad." Heracles stood up straight and walked to the fridge, throwing the spoon into the sink on the way.

"How do you know all these stuff? I like how you do it." 

"I don't know. I just do." 

Tarkan was lifted up from the couch. Heracles' strong, tree trunk arms held the boy as he laid his head on his shoulders. Tarkan wrapped his arms around his neck and sucked his thumb. Heracles walked to the master bedroom, not laying down just yet and swayed Tarkan, sending him to sleep. 

...

Heracles woke up to the sound of frying food. He was surprised that Tarkan wasn't sleeping on his chest, but was actually sleeping right next to him, his back to Heracles' side. 

"Tarkan." He whispered. "Let's go down stairs and eat." 

"No... My head and throats hurts." Tarkan cornered his head with the sheets and curled into himself. 

"I'll carry you." 

The small boy sighed. "Fine." 

The two walked downstairs to see Sadik frying eggs. Heracles greeted him good morning. 

"Good morning to you too. How are you feeling, Tarkan?" Sadik stroked his son's back and getting silence, a buried head him Heracles' neck and Heracles' 'oh well' face. 

"I got him to drink medicine last night." 

"Tch. So he does have a fever..."

The two man sighed. That would mean that one of them, or even both of them would stay home. They were both kind of happy and kind of not, getting a chance to not talk to Germany but also not getting a chance to catch up on work. 

"I'm sleepy..." Tarkan whispered. Heracles smiled. He flopped on the couch, Tarkan laying on his chest again. 

"You can sleep here."


End file.
